The Coffee Shop Fire
by Huffleporg
Summary: Down in the Beverage District, a work of investigative journalism into the rivalry between two coffee shops leads to four calls to the City Health Inspector's office from J.S., three detentions, two fires, and one broken sugar bowl.


She couldn't pace back and forth in the alley forever. Between the necessity of nourishment and the foul odor of spoiled milk coming from the dumpster, Olivia Caliban knew that she had to find her courage. "You can do this," she murmured to herself, adjusting her grip on her resume so as to not crumple it. "You have to do this. If you want to afford food and make rent." Moving back home to her parents or begging her sister to take her in simply wasn't an option. "You're not a failure." Just a victim of budget cuts, cruel administrations, and a landlord that was demanding far too much for a cramped studio apartment. "This isn't admitting defeat." When she had graduated with her masters in library sciences, she had never thought that she would ever find herself standing anxiously in an alley of the beverage district about to apply for a job she was overqualified for, but had no choice but to seek. "It's just a-"  
A door into the alley burst open behind Olivia, making her jump. She spun around to see a rail thin man standing in on the stoop, a pack of cigarettes in his hand. The man's shiny blue eyes fixed on Olivia as he slid a white cigarette out of the pack, almost daring her to explain just what she was doing in the alley.  
Olivia straightened herself up, summoning as much courage as she hoped to bring to The Sugar Bowl. "Smoking will kill you, you know," she said to the man.  
The man's one eyebrow furrowed with annoyance. "Good," he said. He took a box of matches from his apron pocket.  
Olivia shook her head and walked from the alley, the clicking of her heels drowning out the sound of a match being struck. "Disgusting," she murmured, unsure whether she felt the adjective applied more to the habit, the man, or the alleyway. She went down a block of brick sidewalk, past a dairy shop with a display of cows in the window, a bar closed until dinner time, and a shop selling empty bottles, and finally reached the crosswalk. A glance in both directions and then she hurried across the street, finally standing in front of the place she hoped would be her next job.  
"Help Wanted" the sign in the window read. The last time she had been here, she had only noted the presence of the sign in the window of The Sugar Bowl as she waited for her coffee and pastry on her way to what she hadn't known was her last day of work. Now the coffee shop wasn't the only one who needed help.  
Taking a deep breath, Olivia checked her reflection in the window, just to make sure that none of her hair had snuck out of her bun. She gave a tug on her flowery blouse, straightening it out. "'Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear,'" Olivia quoted softly to herself before she strode determinedly over to the class door. As soon as she opened it, Olivia was wrapped in the familiar rich smell of coffee and sweetness of freshly baked treats.  
The shop was in a mid morning lull, Olivia noted as she walked up to the counter. Only a table and a couple of the sumptuous armchairs were occupied, though Olivia supposed that there could be a few people lurking amidst the bookshelves she herself had browsed several times before today. At least there would only be a few people who would be witness to this.  
"Olivia, right?" asked the man behind the counter, smiling kindly.  
Mouth dry, Olivia nodded.  
"It's been a while since you've been in," the man went on.  
"Thirteen days." Thirteen days since Vice Principal Nero had rudely informed her the school no longer needed a librarian. Thirteen days of frantically trying to find some way to make a living wage.  
The man reached over for a medium cup. "Well, I'm Larry, your barista. And if I remember right, it's a soy latte with some caramel. And whichever pastry strikes your fancy."  
"It is," said Olivia, "but I'm actually not here to purchase anything." She held out her resume so Larry could read it. "I'm here for a job."  
The barista blinked. "Oh, well, that is a surprise."  
"Was a surprise for me as well, though I suppose it shouldn't have been. My hours kept on getting cut, and now…"  
Larry's smile returned, only with an empathetic tone. "I'm sorry, Olivia. I hope that we can help you." He glanced over his shoulder. "I'm going to get one of the owners. One of them is always around." He lifted up a black curtain to the back room and vanished from sight.  
She leaned against the counter, feeling her blouse sticking to her back with her nervous sweat. She didn't have long to wait before Larry was back with another man following close behind. As Larry stepped aside allowing her to see the man's face, Olivia felt her nervous reach a fever pitch.  
"Olivia, this is Jacques Snicket, co-owner of The Sugar Bowl," said Larry.  
Her gaze only flicked back to Larry for a moment before once again focusing on Jacques.  
"Jacques, this is Olivia Caliban."  
Jacques Snicket extended a hand, "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Caliban."  
For a moment, she stared at the hand before remembering her manners. "Pleasure's mine," she said, trying not to let nerves or any other emotions break her voice.  
"If you follow me, we can speak in the office." He motioned for her to come around the counter.  
As Olivia walked around to the other side, she couldn't shake the feeling of transgression as she crossed into a part of the coffee shop that previously had been off limits - not that it would have ever occurred to her to be tempted to venture into the behind the scenes of her favorite cafe. Following Jacques to the other side of the black curtain, Olivia said, "Thank you for this opportunity, Mr. Snicket."  
"Jacques," offered the man. He glanced over his shoulder and gave her a small smile. "You have quite an impressive resume. Not the usual we get here." He led her into a hot kitchen with racks and racks of baked goods and ingredients. "Larry was a waiter before he found his way here."  
"I worked at a coffee shop in college, and part of grad school," said Olivia.  
"I did see that." They stopped before a closed door. Jacques reached into his pocket and pulled out a key. "But, I would have thought that a librarian like yourself would have sought out employment in a library or bookstore." He unlocked the door and pushed it open, revealing a tiny office with a desk, a couple of chairs, and shelves stacked with books.  
"I tried that," said Olivia. "But the library said that it's not in their budget to hire another librarian this year. I can't afford to relocate to Lake Lachrymose. And all the bookshops seem to have gone out of business."  
Wordlessly, Jacques motioned for her to sit down in one of the chairs facing the desk, himself leaning up against the desk.  
In the crowded office, barely a yard separated the former librarian from the man. From her seated position, she had to crane her neck upwards in order to see his face. "So, when it became clear that those options were, in fact, not options," Olivia continued, "I found myself in a quandary. I'd rather work in my vocation, but I need a job, otherwise…" She found her gaze falling to the floor.  
"I understand." Jacques voice was soft, comforting.  
Olivia swallowed. "I began to ask myself, where could I stand to be for several hours a day, and maybe even enjoy myself a little, and The Sugar Bowl came to mind," she said timidly. "I've always enjoyed coming here. The coffee you serve is the best, and the atmosphere…" She lifted her eyes up to his warm brown eyes, "it's the closest thing to a library that isn't in fact a library."  
"There's a reason for that," said Jacques with a grin. "See, when Beatrice and I opened The Sugar Bowl, we were thinking about the coffee houses of old Europe, where intellectuals would gather and discuss philosophy, politics, and art. We wanted our customers to be like us: well-read and able to appreciate a cup of well-brewed coffee, who would find a debate about the use of a comma in a particular poem stimulating." He paused for a moment, fixing her with an evaluative look. "I do think you'll find yourself quite at home here. Unlike other coffee shops where it's get-in, get-out, and the same decaf coffee has been sitting on the burner since six… and the tea is weak and you can never find napkins, and…"  
Olivia shifted in her seat, frowning.  
"And you wonder if the proprietor has bathed this week."  
"I tend to avoid those establishments," said Olivia, fairly sure from the ad hominem nature of the most recent criticism that things had taken a personal turn.  
Jacques nodded approvingly. "A wise choice." He cleared his throat and walked over to the other side of the desk and sat down. "And I think it would be a wise choice for to offer you a position here, Olivia. The Sugar Bowl could certainly use a librarian."  
Relief washed over Olivia. "Oh thank you. Thank you so much, Jacques." She wouldn't have to spend another week living off of her dwindling savings that had not even been past the triple digits before she had lost her job.  
"When can you start?" he asked.  
"I can start right now." 


End file.
